


i hope you make it

by cheonsyun



Series: noughts and crosses [1]
Category: K-pop, SEVENTEEN (Band)
Genre: (kinda), Angst with a Happy Ending, Enemies to Lovers, Getting Back Together, Inspired by Romeo and Juliet, M/M, Minor Character Death, they have premarital sex. sorry, well they're SUPPOSED to be enemies that's what the entire plot is based on
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-02-19
Updated: 2020-02-15
Packaged: 2021-02-19 05:11:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 18,612
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22672417
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cheonsyun/pseuds/cheonsyun
Summary: "Lying on the sofa with my eyes closed, I didn’t want to see it this way,everything eating everything in the end.We know how the light works,we know where the sound is coming from.Verse. Chorus. Verse.I’m sorry. We know how it works. The world is no longer mysterious."- Richard Siken.
Relationships: Kim Mingyu/Xu Ming Hao | The8
Series: noughts and crosses [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1635475
Comments: 5
Kudos: 19





	1. THE PROLOGUE

Two households, both alike in dignity,

In fair Seoul, where we lay our scene,

From ancient grudge break to new mutiny,

Where civil blood makes civil hands unclean.

From forth the fatal loins of these two foes

A pair of star-cross'd lovers take their life;

Whose misadventured piteous overthrows

Do with their death bury their parents' strife.

The fearful passage of their death-mark'd love,

And the continuance of their parents' rage,

Which, but their children's end, nought could remove,

Is now the two hours' traffic of our stage;

The which if you with patient ears attend,

What here shall miss, our toil shall strive to mend.


	2. ACT I : RED SEA

They’re all sitting on a bench, a few meters away from the entrance of the club.

"Are you sure about this, Hao", Junhui asks, dragging once more on his cigarette.

"Never been so sure about anything in my life", Hao replies.

Hansol is playing on his phone. Soonyoung watches him from above his shoulder.

"You want to sneak in a Cheonsa night club. Sounds brilliant", Jun continues. "I bet Jeonghan would be _so_ glad to hear about this."

"Are you threatening to snitch on us ?"

"I’m not. ‘M just saying this idea is shit, that’s it."

"He’s right", Hansol adds, eyes still glued to his phone.

Minghao sighs so hard he could pierce his lung.

"So what ?", he says, irritated. "You’re just going to give up on me now that we’re here ? Are you chickening out ?"

"No. It’s just that Jun’s right. Going in Cheonsa territory, and then sneaking in one of their clubs, and then what ? Shitting on their fucking doormat ?"

He sighs again. Junhui once told him he had never seen someone who sighs nearly as much as Minghao.

"Hao, make up your mind, the guy’s not worth it. Come on, do you think you could fuck a member of the Cheonsa clan without him recognizing you ?"

"It’s not _some guy_ , it’s Joshua Hong, and he’s like, the hottest person to walk this town _ever_." 

Soonyoung makes an exasperated sound. They have already gotten involved in Minghao’s weird plans, but this one is a whole new level of twisted.

"If you don’t want to stay, feel free to leave", he says. "Jun, how many cigarettes did you smoke since we arrived ? God, you’re like, a smoke machine at Lotte World. Aren’t you breathless after you fuck ?"

"You’d be the one to know", Junhui simply answers.

"What the _fu_ -", Hansol starts, shocked, before Soonyoung interrupts him.

"The guard is leaving", he warns them. "Come on, let’s go. I don’t care about Junhui and Minghao fucking or not fucking. Get in this damn nightclub so you can shut up about the Joshua dude who’s probably, like, not hot."

They walk swiftly to the back door of the club and manage to sneak in as someone leaves. Junhui rolls his eyes. Minghao grins widely. Hansol pulls on the hem of his silk button up and asks to his older brother to lean down.

"Are you _fucking_ Junhui ?", he asks him, dumbfounded.

"Soonyoung said fucking or not fucking, it’s yours to decide whatever floats your boat. You’re too young to know about this anyways", Hao whispers.

"I’m twenty. You’re twenty-one."

"Okay, then let’s say it casually happens."

"Oh my God, this is so _gross"_ , Hansol says, wincing excessively.

"You asked."

The club is crowded, air scorching and damp sticking to their skins. They blend in the crowd quite well, way better than they expected. In a normal situation, you could easily make the difference between a member of the Cheonsa clan and a member of the Hwanggeum clan. Unexpectedly, tonight, it’s harder. They wear white, grey, and beige. They look immaculate, almost innocent. In a way, they are.

"So, where’s the reason we all throw ourselves into this deathtrap ?", Soonyoung asks.

Everyone ignores him. Minghao tries to spot his target; splitting up from the group, he wanders between the bar, the dancefloor and the smoking room - where Junhui seems to have established his quarters for the next hours. He’s not as careful as he probably should be; he’s the heir to the Hwanggeum clan, and he’s alone in the middle of a nightclub owned by the enemy, sticking his head in the lion’s mouth, walking on a tiled floor sticky with liquor.

A few years ago he probably wouldn’t have been so brave ; when he was younger he would tend to blindly trust his father’s opinion about everything, including the Cheonsas. That they were absolute evil, blood-stained hands under silk gloves, maintaining a facade of an upright family while hiding daggers behind their backs. _Hwang-geum Gisa_ (the Golden Knight, the honorary title that was given to the chief of the Hwanggeum clan and made no sense in Minghao’s fourteen-year-old eyes even though he agreed it sounded fucking _cool_ ) was, according to his own words, a man of honesty, and therefore never decided to hide his misdemeanors. Minghao, his first son and future _Hwang-geum Gisa_ , thought that this was extremely unsmart from him, but he was not old and mature enough to get into an ideological fight with his father at that time so he swallowed up the carefully prepared soup of lies without considering the issue at a deeper level.

And then he grew up, and he actually considered it, and he kissed his first boy (Jun), smoked his first cigarette, got his first carpet burns (Jun again), and eventually he decided that a feud that didn’t concern him, his little brother or his cousins was none of his business and that it wouldn’t keep him from living his life and _even less_ from spending a night of reckless, beastly sex with Joshua Hong that was now standing six feet away from him.

Soonyoung was wrong. He wasn’t “not hot”. He was the polar opposite of “not hot”. Oh, Lord, sometimes Minghao wished he didn’t have such an expensive taste in men, so that he could spend his life going from one-night-stand to one-night-stand with strangers met at some bar, and not arriving to the extent where he had to get into a club owned by his family’s sworn enemy to get his hands on a model that he wasn’t even sure he would even look at him.

(Of course he would. Minghao was another polar opposite of “not hot”.)

He’s talking with someone Minghao can’t see. Joshua’s voice is really nice. Minghao tries not to eavesdrop, but he hears him talking about someone’s birthday being today, and that the champagne would be there soon, and that Seokmin - whoever that was - needed to remind the staff to bring the gifts.

 _What kind of loser celebrates their birthday at the club_ , he wonders, before remembering he did, twice - eighteenth and nineteenth.

His eyes meet Joshua’s, a second too long for it to be just an accidental eye contact. A small smile comes curling the Cheonsa’s perfect lips, and Minghao knows the battle just started.

He hears Soonyoung before he sees him.

"Soon. Soon, come here."

"What", his cousin says, sitting on the stool next to him, chugging on a glass of something that looks like whiskey but doesn’t smell like it.

"There he is", he says, tugging his sleeve without taking his eyes off of Joshua." Is he still _not hot_ " ?

Soonyoung bats his eyelashes and follow Minghao’s gaze. His lips part, forming a perfect O once he spots him.

"Oh God, he’s totally not _not hot_. Oh, dear Lord."

There’s a contemplative silence as they both shamelessly stare at Joshua’s mannequin-like figure, moving graciously through the crowd, getting further from them, close to the VIP section.

"Sometimes felony is okay", Minghao adds, and then a clamor of cheers bursts from an end of the room.

It’s, of course, a champagne bucket (Hao knows the brand, he drank exactly the same the last time he celebrated his birthday at a club two years ago) with a sparkling candle on each side, plate held high by the waiter as he brings it to the table.

"This is so… _not glamour"_ , Soonyoung says.

"I’m heading out for a smoke. Wanna join ?"

"There’s champagne. I wouldn’t join even if you paid me for it. I love acting like I was actually invited."

Minghao shrugs and heads towards the small exit leading to the backyard. He’s not surprised to find Junhui there, and even less to see him smoking another cigarette.

"There you are", Jun says calmly. "How’s the party ?"

"Normal. But the guy’s HOT !", Hao replies with an excited smile.

Junhui rolls his eyes and grins. Minghao lights his cigarette up with the flaming Zippo Jun was holding in his direction.

"Are you jealous ?"

"Of ?"

"Of Joshua."

"Why would I be ?", he asks, exhaling smoke.

"Don’t know. Just asking."

"Then stop."

Minghao’s eyes open wide as he takes a drag and he playfully nudges him.

" _You’re jealous_ !"

"Fuck off, Hao. For God’s sake, fuck off."

"Oh my God, Jun, please, you know that you’re the only one for me."

He says it as a joke but he knows that it’s more serious than it may look. They both know how it is. It’s Junhui and Minghao, since the days when their knees were scraped and their hearts remained so pure, and unconsciously they know it will be the two of them until the end.

They don’t love each other in the _dating_ or _married_ way. They love each other in a way so unfathomable, so unbreakable that they became a part of each other. Two sides of a coin. The sun and the moon. It’s an unexplainable bond, born before they could put words on it ( _twin stars_ , Hao thought at the age of seventeen). Bound at heart, connected at soul, tied at the hands to the head of the bed. They don’t love each other like lovers do, but they touch each other as such. They both like it. They never talk about it, though ; they’re not ashamed, it’s just one of those things that remain unspoken between them.

They could die for each other. They couldn’t live separated. They’re sewed at the side. Minghao loves him _so fucking much_ , he realizes as Jun is leaning on the brick wall, the tip of his cigarette lighting up, tiny red dot in the dark, eyes fixed on the passing cars. It wrenches his heart a little

"I’m going back inside", he says.

"It’s too hot in there, I’m staying out for a little while to cool down. Shit’s a real furnace."

Junhui doesn’t respond. He heads back inside without even looking at him. Minghao knows he’ll make it up to him. Jun never stays mad for long.

A stranger bursts outside, wearing a suit, fumbling, a cigarette hanging from his lips.

"A fucking birthday party in a nightclub", he mumbles. "What the hell ? What the _hell_ ? Is this _My Super Sweet 16_ on MTV ?"

He taps on his whole body - _why so tall for ?_ , Hao wonders - and groans. He turns around and walks towards Minghao.

"Excuse me, he asks, his voice much sweeter, do you have a lighter ?"

The yellow ray of lightning finally comes to strike his face. Minghao’s heart stops for half a second.

"Sure", he says, handing him his black Zippo.

"Thank you so much."

The stranger is the most breathtaking person Minghao has ever seen. He hates that cliché stuff but there are literally no words. This is just a fact his brain threw at him, almost statistically : he has never seen someone hotter than him. He has no thoughts. His head is empty. The guy has nothing to envy to Joshua Hong. He lights his cigarette and relaxes immediately.

"Sorry, I must’ve looked weird, oh my God, let me introduce myself. I’m Kim Mingyu. Can I ask you a question ?"

Minghao blinks. He would like the guy to look like the type of dude who's the son-of-someone and casually throws their name everything they go, hoping it will open every door, every mouth, every pair of legs. He doesn't. He just looks pissed and beautiful.

"Yes ?"

"What do you think about celebrating your birthday at a nightclub ? Be honest."

Minghao is a little taken aback by the question. His eyes move quickly and he decides to do what he’s asked to : _be honest_.

"Honestly I think it is... the most peasant-ish behavior to ever exist, but my opinion is not univ-"

"Thank you, oh my God, thank you so much for existing."

Minghao doesn’t exactly understand what is going on.

"Nightclub birthdays are shit, and look, now the day I turn twenty-two is wasted and I won’t have a birthday for another year, which means I have a whole year to be angry about this particular night, how convenient."

"Is it your birthday ?, Hao asks hesitantly."

"If it’s past midnight then it is."

"Well, then happy birthday, I guess ?"

"Thank you", Mingyu smiles, showing two slightly bigger canines, like fangs. "Even though it’s shit. What’s your name ?"

"Minghao."

He repeats his name, rolling the syllabus in his mouth, foreign and uncommon here in the heart of Seoul, and it seems so much prettier coming from his lips. Mingyu asks him if he can rant to him a little, since everyone at this party seems not to see the problem in a birthday at the nightclub, and Minghao agrees, without really knowing why. Maybe he wants to hear him talk. Maybe he likes it, the backyard of a nightclub he’s not welcomed into, a complete stranger going on and on about what’s wrong about this party, the passing cars casting a crude light on their two silhouettes.

He’s endearing, almost childlike despite his manly appearance. Minghao tries not to stare too much at his lips but it’s harder than he thought. They smoke another cigarette. It’s small talk, until it’s not. Mingyu talks about his family and Minghao shrugs internally, faking a smile when he understands. It wouldn’t be funny if it was this easy. It wouldn’t be funny if Mingyu hadn’t been a Cheonsa. He’s not even surprised. You could see him in the way he looks so put together, so neat, so innocent. Like he wasn’t born in the middle of a conflict that indirectly stained his hands. Does he know ? Does he know how unfair all of this is, or has he been raised to hate Minghao, his name and his family ?

Hao tries to hide his frown. Mingyu tries to hide his smile.

The Hwanggeum’s blood starts to boil slowly. He knows he shouldn’t care about this, that this stupid feud is absolutely none of his business, but here comes the Guilt with a great G, the guilt of betrayal, of lying, the fear of losing everything he has. If this had been Joshua, he could’ve still pretended not to know about his family, and everything would’ve been less complicated, but of course things don’t go that way. He thinks about the look in Jeonghan’s eyes if he saw him, and suddenly he wants to throw up. He doesn’t have the heart to lie to Mingyu. Sometimes the enemy looks so pure, you’re not sure if you want to save his life or aim directly between the two eyes.

"I absolutely don’t get how I, someone who never asked anything, Mingyu says, would have to be involved in a conflict I don’t give a single shit about. I don’t even know how it started. I don’t want to know. I don’t care. I don’t wish for a shitty twenty-second birthday and a private chauffeur. Well, I don’t complain about the chauffeur, but fuck, man. I just want a normal family. I just wish my dad talked to me."

There’s a comfortable silence. Minghao almost forgets they’re supposed to hate each other, for a second.

"Yeah, I totally understand this."

His throat is dry and tight. He’s now fully aware of what’s going on. Minghao has to leave now. He has to leave before this gets out of hand (before he bursts into tears).

"I gotta go", he erupts suddenly, pointing towards the door. "I’m sorry, I have something to do, it was a -"

"I know who you are", Mingyu cuts him.

Minghao freezes. The Cheonsa’s eyes are shining lightly, and he seems amused.

"I’m sorry, what ?"

"I know who you are", he repeats. "Xu Minghao from the Hwanggeum clan."

His small smile doesn’t fade.

"And that’s why I have to leave even faster than I thought", he hisses through gritted teeth. "Please forget about my face and my name. This never happened."

"I couldn’t care less about your name or the clan you belong to."

 _It’s so damn cliché_ , Minghao thinks. It’s _so, so fucking damn cliché_. And yet it works. A little.

"Please", he still says, because he’s not a sixteen-year-old virgin. "Spare your pretty discourse for someone who’s not an enemy of your family."

Mingyu sighs and rolls his eyes. It doesn’t make him look exasperated at all. Just kind of cute, almost too much for the rest of his appearance. Because he’s still got his idiot little smile on, with his two stupid fangs poking out. Minghao turns around and walks to the door to get back in. His hands shake. He has to leave. He knows what will happen. If he stays one more second, he knows the price he’ll have to pay. He has to leave before he lets the fangs dig into his flesh, like vampires would do, poisoning him, letting Sin spread inside his blood system. He must not cross Mingyu’s eyes one more time. It’s like he’s standing on the edge of a cliff. He has to leave _right now_.

"We’ll meet again", Mingyu says from behind him, and Hao wonders how it is possible to smile with your damn _voice_.

It’s his turn to sigh. He pushes the doorknob downs and, as he pulls the door to him, he looks at Mingyu from over his shoulder.

"You bet", is all he’s able to come up with.

Mingyu huffs. Minghao closes the door behind him, and he can’t quite wipe the small grin off of his lips. He already slipped from the cliff but he pretends he did not.

He grabs Junhui, Soonyoung and Hansol, the three of them sitting at the bar, drinking things that look too strong and that are way too expensive for what they are.

"Now we get the hell out of here", he orders, moving to the door.

"Why are you always playing the chief ?", Hansol asks.

"Why do you never shut your damn mouth ?"

Hansol makes a gesture with his hands. _Fair enough_.

"Did you fuck him", Soonyoung whispers to him.

"None of your business."

"Okay, you didn’t."

They exit the club, the fresh air of the night crashing against their heatened skins. Soon calls a cab after Minghao tells him he’s sleeping at their family house and not in his apartment in Eunma Town. Junhui comes with them. He’s not a member of their family properly speaking, but his father is Minghao and Hansol’s biggest associate, and the Wens are a parallel dynasty to the Hwanggeum clan, and you could probably even call them part of this. They all consider Jun as one of theirs, and none of them remember a time when he wasn’t around.

He and Minghao always share the same room. It used to be innocent, at an age where the friendship between two boys is so natural and easy, until it was not, when they discovered how two people can touch each other. Now it’s just a habit they never lost, not asking their maid to prepare another bed in the guest room.

The cab leaves them in front of their house. The four of them get off after generously tipping the driver and silently start walking up the gravel driveway.

Minghao is thinking. About what the hell this night had been. (About two small fangs pointing out of pretty lips.)

Their older cousin, Jeonghan, is sitting under the porch, enthroned in the distinguished lounger garnished with mellow cushions, something smoking between his slender fingers. He tries to hide it as he sees the four boys coming his way, but he’s already in Minghao’s grip range. He catches his cousin’s wrist and holds the cigarette between them.

"Didn’t you quit smoking ?"

"I find it quite bold of you, Xiao Hao, who smokes like a damn firefighter", Jeonghan sighs.

"Don’t make this about me. Never said I’d quit."

"This has been a rough week. A rough month, should I say. Your dad’s not easy in business."

Jeonghan works for the Hwanggeum clan’s company. He’s Minghao’s father’s nephew, and the oldest of all of the cousins. He’s been working his soul off lately, everyone sees it. Jeonghan pretends it’s okay, but no one missed the slight shadow that took the place of what used to be his cheeks.

"How was your night ?", Han asks.

"Shit", Jun replies first.

The three other nod. One of them lies, though.

"Well, at least you can allow yourselves a night out."

It hurts Minghao somewhere between his ribs, and all of a sudden he misses a time when Jeonghan used to be one of them. When he used to be part of their trips, their small mischiefs, their sleepovers. When he was not being slowly turned into a slave to the Hwanggeum’s name. He knows Jeonghan doesn’t really want this. He knows who the man standing in front of him with his silk pants and expensive shoes really is.

Sometimes Minghao wished this tangled mixture of financial empire and meaningless war was someone else’s business. So he and his cousins could live as they intended to. So Jeonghan could be the painter he always wanted to be. He brushes the thought of the fangs off of his mind. Not now. Never. (The fangs are replaced by the small almond-shaped, shining eyes.)

"You should go to bed, Hannie. It’s getting late."

"You’re right", he answers as he crushes his cigarette butt in the ashtray. "Good night, kids. Don’t stay up too late."

He gently brushes Minghao’s arm through his silk button-up when he leaves. Minghao thinks about the painting Jeonghan showed him when he was fifteen and his cousin was eighteen. What a waste to make him work behind a desk, as luxurious as it could be.

They all seat on the steps of the front door, lighting their cigarettes with Soonyoung’s electric lighter. Soon and Hansol talk about a video game they both like. Minghao doesn’t listen. He and Jun don’t talk. He thinks about the comfort his lips brings him. He really thinks about it.

They get in, the huge house completely silent, filled with obscurity. The younger ones go to their respective room and Jun and him go to his room. They take their shoes off. They still haven’t talked.

They get in bed, both wearing big shirts. It fits almost right on Jun and completely baggy on Minghao. They stare at the ceiling. No words have been said yet.

Silence. Darkness. The quiet bliss of home after a night out.

"Jun."

"What do you want", he sighs.

"What’s wrong ?"

"Nothing."

Minghao scoffs.

"Please. Are you lying to _me_ ?"

"I’m not lying. Nothing’s wrong."

"Then kiss me."

Junhui rolls his eyes, then on his side and he does as he’s told. Maybe he wasn’t lying. Minghao knows him well enough to make a difference between his _nothing’s wrong_ kiss and a _I pretend it’s okay_ kiss. Right now it’s the first one. Their tongues meet, and he finds the usual comfort in this. Feeling at home.

No. Something is definitely wrong. But it’s not about Junhui. It’s not coming from him.

He thinks about the fangs. The kind eyes. The problem with having your birthday celebrated in a nightclub.

 _We’ll meet again_.

Something’s so damn wrong.

Junhui feels it. Of course he does. He pulls back from the kiss.

"Okay, we are not doing this."

He puts his shirt back to how it’s supposed to be, being not messed up by Minghao’s curious hands, and rolls to his side, facing the wall. Minghao inhales deeply.

"Jun…"

"We’ll talk about it tomorrow."

He doesn’t respond. He keeps on staring at the ceiling. There’s a knot tied in his throat, so tight it almost suffocates him. There’s no need for everything to be so complicated.

* * *

He wakes up at noon and Junhui’s not there. Minghao rubs his eyes.

He goes in the kitchen. Hansol is eating an unidentifiable sandwich and he hears Soonyoung from the living room. Jeonghan is out for work since a while.

"Have you seen Jun ?", he asks his brother.

"Left about one hour ago", Hansol replies after swallowing his mouthful. "How come you don’t know ?"

"Because I just woke up and I’m not omniscient."

"Would be cool, though."

Minghao holds that thought for a second. It would mostly make everything so much easier, he thinks.

"You argued ?", Hansol follows. "Junhui never does this."

"Half yes, half no. He was weird yesterday night."

"He’s always weird."

"Says who. Well he was weirder than usual."

"That’s a lot."

There’s a blank. Minghao stares at the bright void of their spotless kitchen, eyes still a bit sticky.

"I’m going back to my place later today", he warns him. "What’s that sandwich you’re eating ?"

"Nuggets, onions, mayonnaise and barbecue sauce."

Minghao winces wholeheartedly.

"Don’t say Jun and I fucking is disgusting ever again when you eat stuff like this in your own free will."

"You eat Jun’s dick"

"You mix mayonnaise and barbecue sauce. Disgrace to this family."

Hansol doesn’t respond. Minghao didn’t expect him to. He showers and leaves the Hwanggeum house.

Their chauffeur brings him in Eunma Town and it always feel weird to be here without Junhui. They’re almost permanently together. Jun likes to think he’s Hao’s bodyguard or something along these lines.

His apartment is big and tastefully decorated. Design furniture, wide windows, one of Jeonghan’s paintings hung up on a wall. Gigantic white veil curtains - when it’s windy his apartment looks like Mount Olympus. It looks like one of those swell art galleries in the Upper East Side. Maybe Jun will call. He lays on the leather couch, hand hanging in the void, TV playing in the background. He lets his eyes wander on the spotless ceiling, a gracious roof light hanging a few feet above him, and despite his semi-goodwill, he starts overthinking.

Will they really meet again ?

He shakes the thought off from his head and checks his phone absentmindedly. A few notifications from Instagram; he scrolls amongst them and sees a message request from what looks like a bot username. Half done with those sexy Russian robots who ask him if he wants to see them naked and half curious, he opens it. It was from four minutes ago.

**_mg2747630_ ** _: i’m a man of my words_

 **_mg2747630_ ** _: want to meet tonight ? 10pm in myeongdong ?_

 **_mg2747630_ ** _: i made a fake account to dm you i look like a stalker_

Minghao sighs and shakes his head. He contains a smile but the edges of his lips curl up a little. This is sweet. And completely insane.

**_xuminghao_o_ ** _: do you seriously think this is a good idea_

It sounds colder than he expected it to. He bites his lip.

**_mg2747630_ ** _: just wanted to see you without having to wait for you to sneak in the nightclub my dad gifted me again_

_Slick motherfucker_ , Minghao huffs

**_xuminghao_o_ ** _: this is the most irresponsible thing i could ever do_

 **_xuminghao_o_ ** _: i kinda love it_

  
  


He realizes once again how much he loves it. The adrenaline. The pleasure of doing something forbidden.

He tries to convince himself that he does this for the love of risk. That once the thrill will be gone, his little Kim-Mingyu-from-the-Cheonsa-clan phase will fade away and that this will never be a problem anymore. He almost joins his hands together, but Minghao stopped praying a long ago.

**_mg2747630_ ** _: so you’re down_

 **_mg2747630_ ** _: nice :)_

 **_mg2747630_ ** _: so, where in myeongdong ?_

They agree on a meeting point. Minghao refrains from saying he’s excited. Mingyu probably does too.

He spends his afternoon doing nothing, scrolling mindlessly on his computer, zapping from one channel to another on his TV. Jun doesn’t call. It makes his heart twinge a little. He’ll call him once he gets back tonight.

He gets ready. His chestnut hair is styled but not too carefully, his sleeves are rolled but not too much, his collar is unbuttoned but not too suggestive. He looks sharp, as always, like a freshly cut diamond or a mirroring blade. He calls a cab and makes his way to Myeongdong, and suddenly he realizes the terrible mistake he could’ve made.

What if all of this is a ruse ? What if the Cheonsas are after him ? What if he’s currently going head first into an easily avoidable trap ?

His slender fingers clutch onto his phone, his knuckles turning white against the edge. What if Mingyu is a liar ? His screen lights up.

**_mg2747630_ ** _: i just realized that it could seem weird for me to ask you out like this_

 **_mg2747630_ ** _: i’m sorry i really don’t know how to convince you that this is not an ambush or something like this_

 **_mg2747630_ ** _: you can trust me or not but i would understand if you didn’t come_

There it is again. The adrenaline, mixed with something warm in his stomach. He always has a knife on him and he practices wushu since he’s able to stand on his feet. At best, it would be a nice night out, at worst, he would break a few bones and trace a few scars. He just responds by “I’ll be there”.

He arrives in Myeongdong, to the spot where they decided to meet. He pays the driver, gets off the car and starts walking when a warm hand lands on his frail shoulder. He turns back, always ready for everything, and he faces a pair of kind eyes a few inches above his (which is quite unusual because Minghao is pretty tall himself).

Minghao has a flashing thought. _I would gladly be caught into an ambush for him_.

Mingyu, freshly twenty-two, stands tall and wide in a scenery of falling cherry blossoms and shining signboards. His brown hair is parted in the middle and falls gently on his temples. His white round-collared shirt makes his golden skin stand out even more. Minghao tries once again to tell himself this will be over when this will lose the thrill of the danger.

"I won our bet", Mingyu smiles.

This time, Hao’s heart starts beating shamelessly. The fangs. The goddamn fangs. He remembers answering “you bet” when Mingyu told him they’d meet again. He hates himself a little. This feels like a shitty summer romance movie and there’s nothing he can do to stop himself from loving it.

"Do you want me to invite you for dinner ? Since I lost."

Gyu smiles again and Minghao thinks he would’ve insisted to pay anyway.

They start walking in the streets, looking for a nice place to eat. Myeongdong could not be described as “calm” in any type of way, and yet that’s how it feels to Minghao.

"I honestly thought you wouldn’t come", Mingyu states.

"Do you think I’m some kind of coward ?"

"You could have thought you would get killed. Which would have been a rational and reasonable statement."

"My question still stands."

Mingyu giggles again. He does it a lot, actually. Minghao pretends he doesn’t care.

"Impressive. For someone as frail as you, that is quite an imprudent behavior."

He nudges him gently. It’s true. Mingyu is taller, more muscular, with a broader frame.

"I could kill you", Minghao just says.

Maybe he’d have to, eventually. The taller laughs softly. Minghao smiles. Their hands collide accidentally as someone bumps into Hao. None of them let go. They don’t make any comment about it. They choose a small traditional Korean restaurant where they eat samgyeopsal. Minghao doesn’t know it yet, but he has three missed calls from Junhui.

Myeongdong is a neutral place where their small war doesn’t exist. None of their families have men there. They both can go around as they want. In Myeongdong, it’s not about the Cheonsas and the Hwanggeums. It’s about Minghao and Mingyu.

Mingyu covers his mouth with his hand when he laughs and his ears go red when he receives a compliment. He pouts when something displeases him and his hands are smooth and warm. He smells like Ralph Lauren perfume and laundry detergent and Minghao notices the way the soft fabric of his shirt creases between his shoulder blades. He doesn’t know yet it he wants to rest his head or dig his nails into it. His eyes are kind and Minghao wishes he was as sweet from the inside as him. His ribcage feels tight. Mingyu scares him, somehow. And at the same time he doesn’t.

He pays the bill for the two of them, even though Mingyu finally insists to pay for himself, and they leave the small place. Their cheeks are rosy and this time Minghao takes willingly Mingyu’s hand. His throat goes dry. He’s scared he gets accustomed to this. This tastes too good to be right ; he’d probably recognize the forbidden fruit if he tasted it, and maybe this was it. The void below his feet is frightening.

The first time their lips meet, the taste of guilt longing on his tongue gets stronger than ever before fading out. This is the forbidden fruit. He knows it. He senses the sword of Damocles hanging in the air above the two of them, and Mingyu probably senses it too because he tugs him closer as a dark alley swallows the shape of their two bodies. A blinking neon watches them shakily, casting a tremblant blue light over them.

His phone rings and it’s the special ringtone he set for when Junhui calls him. Guilt comes back biting him straight at the throat like the jaws of a lion and he pulls back from the kiss. Mingyu stares at him, bewildered eyes shining from the neon in the alley, lips pink and swollen, still panting a little.

"I have to leave", Minghao says.

"It’s fine. I understand."

They kiss one last time - one peck on the lips, both way too much and less than enough - and Minghao calls a cab. Sitting limply on the leather backseat, he feels like the locket bearing the blazon of his blood is burning on his collarbones while the taste of Mingyu’s tongue lasts in his mouth. Maybe he cares more about loyalty than he thought. Maybe his name is something he has to bear proudly and not to betray. But once you bite the forbidden fruit, you have to eat it whole until the last crumb, or else this delicious sin will be vain. 

He stares at the road through the windshield, watching the cab swallow the asphalt beneath its wheels, just like the quicksand is already swallowing his feet. He can’t even convince himself that he’s wrestling to get out of this. He’s diving head first. Head first in what could be a deathtrap. Head first in Mingyu’s arms.

It has taken less than twenty-four hours for him to love a man he doesn’t even know. It’s a gut feeling. A string at the pinky. The purest form alchemy. It’s heartwarming, terrifying and bittersweet.

Cotton. Steel. Blood. The calming heat of a fireplace. The thrill of risking it all and the fear of losing it all.

Jun is waiting for him on the couch when he gets back home. He’s wrapped in a blanket, eating chips in front of a movie and his wide eyes barely move when Minghao closes the door. His face changes slightly depending on the lighting of the TV and Minghao feels like a liar.

"How you doin’", Jun asks mechanically before crushing a handful of chips inside of his mouth, eyes still glued to the screen.

"Good, you ?"

"Same."

Minghao places his shoes near the entrance and goes to the couch, flopping in the cold cushions on the empty side. Jun throws a pack of chips at him and he catches it in flight.

He and Junhui are eating chips in the couch, watching TV, on a Saturday night. This is normal. This is _supposed_ to be normal, supposed to _feel_ normal. Something is still off. Minghao knows what it is. He knows Jun knows and he knows he’ll ask sooner or later. It can be in an hour or in a week.

"What’s his name ?"

It’s now. Minghao would’ve more expected _later_ than _sooner_ knowing Junhui, but it has to be done. He inhales deeply.

"Mingyu."

"Just like the Cheonsa dude."

Jun chuckles and stares at Minghao, expecting a reaction. Minghao is just staring back blankly.

"What the fuck ? Is it Mingyu the Cheonsa dude ?"

"Maybe", Minghao says hesitantly, a bit curious about how Jun knew about Mingyu's existence when he didn't.

Jun scoffs.

"So you were serious about this ? You didn’t get the cousin Joshua so you went for the son of your father’s sworn enemy ?"

"Don’t make it sound like this, Jun."

"But it _is_ like this, Hao ? I make it sound exactly the way it is."

They remain silent for a moment, the TV still playing behind them. Jun pinches the bridge of his nose. He’s been around Minghao for too long not to know he’s a stubborn one, and that he’ll do whatever he wants no matter the obstacles. Whatever Jun does or says will not stop Minghao from this affair with Mingyu and he knows it. He’s not some Don Quixote, fighting against a windmill.

"Well", he finally says.

"Well", Minghao repeats.

"It’s not like I have anything to say on it either way."

Minghao nods with closed eyes and Junhui sighs.

"To be honest, I do have a few things to say but they wouldn’t change anything."

"No one else must know, Jun. I’m dead serious about this. If my dad knows this is going to turn out way worse than it already looks."

"I’m not stupid. Did you think I would run to your dad to tell him about the good news ?

Minghao smiles.

"Thank you so much."

Jun tousles Hao’s hair like he’s his son or something along these lines and they fall asleep in the couch, and when Minghao wakes up he’s in his bed, as always.

* * *

For the Cheonsa clan, the Sunday lunch has always been a big deal. It’s the only meal of the week where everyone is free, and they all eat at Mingyu’s parents’ home. All the grooms, cooks, maids and staff are requisitioned, crystal flutes clinking over the spotless white tablecloth and silver cutlery screeching on porcelain plates.

Mingyu is seated at the same place he always takes since he’s in age to be out of a baby chair, his cousin Seokmin on his left and Wonwoo on his right.

Wonwoo is not his cousin. Mingyu and him are kind of supposed to be dating, because Wonwoo’s father is one of the Cheonsa’s biggest economic allies, and none of them have daughters but they both have an “openly” (if you can say so when you’ve been caught kissing each other when you were both fifteen) gay son. The embarrassment this could have caused to their families has been turned into an “advantage”.

Mingyu and Wonwoo get along very well. They’re good friends, they’ve always been. They tried _actually_ dating, in their younger years, and no matter how well they also get along, both in life and in bed, it doesn’t work. So they just keep pretending in front of everyone and have their own life when they’re on their own. They date other people, and if they have to get married together they will, it’s a compromise they have to make and are willing to make : it’s better being forced to marry your best friend that some stranger your dad chose for you. Things are going in a weird way but they’re going well. Mingyu doesn’t really think about it. It’s Wonwoo, and he’s a Cheonsa, and that’s it.

Every Sunday lunch is the same. This is extremely patriarchal and cliché, a wealthy family classical portrait like they’ve always been made. Men talk about how the company is going, women talk about their children, children (who are all above the age of twenty but have no interest about the company, and have never ever been listened to by the adults anyways) talk about whatever they want. They’re just chatting, since they already spend most of their time together, but since it’s a Sunday Lunch with capital S and L, they’re all dressed in impeccable white outfits that Chan systematically stains, making his mother groan in disapprobation (“you’re twenty, Chan, please be careful”). Jihoon always looks extremely done and as soon as the dessert is over he goes in his room to take a nap. Seungkwan and Seokmin are always busy making everyone laugh, and Chan and Joshua are their main audience. The lunch always goes on for way longer than it should, but they make it way more bearable, and when the lunch is over it’s almost time for dinner.

Once this weekly occurrence is over, Mingyu gets to his room to see he has a few unread messages, unbuttonning the collar of his shirt.

**_xuminghao_o_ ** _: are you free tonight_

 **_xuminghao_o_ ** _: seems quite starving oh my God_

 **_xuminghao_o_ ** _: how do you unsend a text_

 **_xuminghao_o_ ** _: unsend_

 **_xuminghao_o_ ** _: UNSEND_

 **_xuminghao_o_ ** _: fuck !!!!!!!!!!!_

 **_xuminghao_o_ ** _: either way if you’re free we can meet or you can come at my apartment or whatever it’s up to you_

**_mg2747630_ ** _: woah there_

 **_mg2747630_ ** _: i am indeed free tonight and would gladly meet at your apartment if you text me the address. regards_

 **_mg2747630_ ** _: no but seriously it’s way better for us to meet indoors because my family is kinda big and i don’t wanna bump into one of my cousins you know_

  
  


He smiles in front of his screen and Minghao texts him the address. He doesn’t know how he feels about all of this, but he knows how it feels kissing Minghao, and he decides he’ll go for this. It’s better than incertitude.

He’s never been quite one to break the rules. Never been the type to bow down too much either, but Mingyu never wondered if he’d have to betray his family one day. Is it worth it ? He think about Minghao’s slender hand inside of his, the way his eyes get smaller when he laughs, his hair falling on his forehead, he thinks about his lips and the light weight of his chest against his. Is it worth it ? Is it really ? Hands. Hair. Lips. _Hands_. It is. It is worth it. It is. _It is_.

He tries to leave the house discretely and he bumps into Seokmin as he was taking the last step towards freedom. He closes his eyes and sighs.

"Where are you going", Seokmin asks, sounding almost childlike.

"None of your business."

"Do you have a boyfriend ? That you didn’t tell me about ? If you didn’t tell me about your boyfriend I’m going to be very sad because I’m extremely sensitive. And then you’ll feel bad."

Mingyu glares at him exasperatedly.

"Are you twelve or something ?"

"I’m not. But if you don’t tell me about it I will literally die."

"Maybe I have a boyfriend. There. Are you glad now ?"

"What’s his name ?"

"Oh, fuck off. Seriously."

Seokmin smiles and scrunches his nose.

"Is it the guy from outside of the club at your birthday ?"

Mingyu is caught by surprise for a split second, but it’s enough for Seokmin to notice.

"I knew it !", his cousin says.

"Shut the fuck up", Mingyu hisses, his ears turning red. "No one has to know about this. Keep this to yourself. Now I’m leaving and you don’t tell anyone about it."

"Is this top secret ?"

"It kind of is, he agrees."

"Are you dating a celebrity ? An actor ?"

Mingyu starts to walk away, rolling his eyes furiously.

"Are you dating a Hwanggeum, Mingyu ?"

Seokmin’s tone is not as playful as it was a few seconds ago and Mingyu instinctively stops.

"Oh my God", Seok whispers.

Mingyu turns back and walks to him. They’re both standing in front of the back door, dimly lit by the small torch at their feet. The atmosphere is so, _so_ heavy.

"You get it ? You get it now, why I want you to be quiet about this ?"

Seokmin shakes his head. Even if he’s the most likely of them all to get along well with all of this, Mingyu is still not sure to which extent this can go “well”.

"This is wrong. You know it. You shouldn’t", Seokmin says.

"Of course I know it."

"Then why ?"

"Fuck if I know, Seokmin. Damn, you think I chose this ?"

His cousin shakes his head once again, pressing his eyes shut. He stares at the sky for a solid ten seconds, and Mingyu knows that he does it when he’s trying to figure out what to do. A devious way to ask God for help, somehow. They were raised to believe everything that happened came from something bigger than them, and with a hidden, guilty sense of relief, Mingyu lets himself think that this was what the skies above decided for him.

"I’m coming with you", Seokmin finally says in a cold, firm tone.

"Excuse me ?"

"I’m coming with you. I need to see if this guy is worth everything you’re risking."

He has no other option either way. Even if they’re only two months apart, Seokmin is the closest thing to an older brother Mingyu has ever had, and he’d rather risk it now than later. If this weed has to be pulled, if all of this has to stop existing now, it better be now, before this becomes an intricate mess. 

Hands. Hair. Lips. The devastating sensation of craving that pits inside of his stomach, fizzling in his chest, lets him know that maybe, _maybe_ it’s already too late.

It’s seven in the evening now. Mingyu has told the staff that he won’t be eating with them tonight, and the chauffeur is waiting for him, parked in the alley in front of the house. It’s not like anyone would notice anyways. They both hop in the car, and Mingyu gives him the address. The driver probably pretends not to notice the tense atmosphere inside the binnacle.

  
  


**_mg2747630_ ** _: we have a problem_

 **_mg2747630_ ** _: my cousin insisted on coming with me_

 **_mg2747630_ ** _: he knows_

 **_mg2747630_ ** _: he won’t tell anyone tho but he knows_

 **_mg2747630_ ** _: he won’t stay long i think_

**_xuminghao_o_ ** _: what the fuck. this is fucked up_

 **_xuminghao_o_ ** _: well i guess we have no other choice_

 **_xuminghao_o_ ** _: when you arrive ask the concierge for xu minghao i told him to let you come in he’ll take you to my apartment_

Mingyu leaves a heart at his last message. It’s been a day and he already misses Minghao. The problem is precisely _here_.

They kissed but he wants more. He wants more than what it’s possible for them to have. He’s betting everything on an all-in for a thing that has no hope to ever flourish, but he loves it, and if someday it dies then he’ll accept it. He just hopes no one will ever kill it. Or _them._

He stares at Seoul passing before his eyes, the light slowly decreasing, the lampposts progressively turning on. Seokmin is silent. A few rain drops crash on the glass. _It’s okay_ , he thinks. _It’s okay_.

The car parks and they get off. The building is sober, but a _luxurious_ type of sober. He asks for Xu Minghao and the concierge opens the elevator for them. It’s all mirrors and carpeted floor and crimson walls and golden grab bars, and the concierge looks like a groom in a five star hotel ; this is their natural element and yet Mingyu has never felt so out of place.

The corridor is long, and silent, and classily lit by elegant wall lights, and their steps are muffled by the carpet. This is another dimension only the very rich can access to, a world of comfortable and wealthy quiet. Mingyu knocks on the door. He hears two voices behind the wood panel and furrows his brows instinctively. This can’t be good.

The man he’s facing isn’t Minghao. He’s short (from Mingyu’s perspective, but objectively he’s approximately the same height as Seokmin), with platinum semi-long hair, almond shaped brown eyes, a red silk Lavalliere-collared shirt and a face you see once in a lifetime.

"Jeonghan, please stop and listen to me, I _beg_ you", Minghao says from behind him.

"Who are you", the man (Jeonghan, supposedly) asks in a stern tone.

His facial expression is not angry, shocked or something along these lines; Mingyu just thinks he looks extremely beautiful, almost surreal, and extremely tired. Unironically and without being overly dramatic and contemplative, he looks like an angel.

"Leave them alone. Let them come in."

Jeonghan steps back and Minghao appears. Mingyu’s heart flutter a little. He always looks pristine, like he was just pulled out of a jewel case, even when he’s not trying to. Minghao gently brushes his biceps as he lets them in.

The apartment looks huge, but it’s just from the careful choice of furniture that makes it look emptier than it is. The white curtains, looking like white sheets, are flapping gently because of the night air going through the open windows. They make the scene look surreal, like white flags of peace in a zone where two worlds collide.

Jeonghan is seated - almost enthroned - in one of the big armchairs of the living room. The apartment looks like Minghao, in some way. Seokmin takes the other armchair and Mingyu and Minghao go for the sofa. Teams are not supposed to be arranged this way, Mingyu thinks. He realizes that Seokmin, his cousin, his own blood, is almost his opponent, as much as the seemingly gentle face of Jeonghan. The coffee table marks a no man’s land between Minghao and him and the two of them. Rationality and impetuosity. Collectivity and selfishness. Duty and love. Loyalty and treason.

There are a few seconds of extremely awkward silence before Minghao decides to speak.

"So… the reason we’re all gathered here tonight…"

"Is because you can’t keep your dick in your fucking pants, Jeonghan finishes."

His voice is not even angry; judging by the way he talks, Mingyu even doubts Jeonghan can sound angry at all, but Minghao looks riled up.

"Oh, please, Jeonghan, not that tone with _me_."

"Which tone ? The tone I’m supposed to use with my own _cousin_ who’s doing God knows what with a guy from the _only_ family in Seoul you’re supposed to avoid ?"

"Why does it count so much ? Seriously, please give me one reason why this isn’t absurd."

Jeonghan sighs deeply and changes the sense he had crossed his legs. He seems to cool down for a little, while Minghao is still pissed and Mingyu and Seokmin absolutely don’t know what to do or say. This is an argument they probably shouldn’t witness, though they almost had it, and mostly an argument they have no right to take part in.

"You don’t need any reason", he finally says. "But not everyone is as careless about this family as you are, Minghao."

For a second, he looks like Jeonghan just slapped him. His older cousin gets up and starts leaving. Minghao makes a gesture towards Mingyu meaning he’ll be back in a few.

Minghao follows Jeonghan outside of his apartment and they’re both in the silent corridor. He has never seen his cousin looking at him like this. The usually sweet eyes that watched him grow up are now burning with muffled resentment and anger and, even though Minghao wishes it’s not, disappointment.

"Even if I get why all this infatuation, you’re still completely unconscious and I can’t let this happen", he says, arms crossed, the ribbons of his Lavalliere falling gracefully on his forearms.

"Jeonghan, please. You don’t get it."

"I absolutely get it, but did you ever put yourself in my place ? Did you ever think about someone else but yourself, for once ?"

Minghao furrows his thin brows. This hurts. _This_ really hurts. Hearing Jeonghan saying this to his face really _fucking_ hurts, because deep down he knows he’s not totally wrong.

"I am slowly killing myself for the sake of this family while I didn’t ask for anything", Jeonghan continues. "I never asked for all of this, and yet I still have to defend it. Because if anything ever happens with the Cheonsas it’ll only get worse. For the company. For your dad. For all of us."

Jeonghan’s face keeps getting closer to his, voice like a whiplash to Minghao’s ears.

-"If this wasn’t for all of us I’d let you do whatever the hell you want", he’s now whispering. "But I won’t let you take everything down just for something that won’t even make you happy."

"It will", Minghao mutters.

His cousin rolls his eyes.

"Please. _Please_ , I’ve known you since you were born and you’ve never ever been satisfied. You only do this because he’s hot and you’re not allowed."

The tone is slowly rising now.

"Maybe I’ve never been satisfied because I’ll have to spend my life living by rules I don’t give a single fuck about ? Have you ever thought about this, Jeonghan ? That maybe not all of us are willing to play by these rules ?"

"You make it sound like I’m asking you to take over the moon. I’m just asking you to stop whatever you’re doing with this Cheonsa. Do you want me to tell your dad ? Do we really have to come to this extent ?"

"You wouldn’t do this", Minghao says, half disgusted, half begging.

"I would. Because I love this family more than I love myself, while you’re not even capable to love anyone that’s not you."

"And yet I love him", he almost screams, hands joined, almost like a prayer, if this still makes sense for him.

Jeonghan looks genuinely shocked. The words seem to bounce against the cream walls.

"Do you, Minghao ?"

"I do."

He’s almost totally sure he does. His cousin sighs deeply, once again, for the nth time this night.

"Fine", he says.

He turns his back.

"What are you gonna do ?", Minghao asks.

"Nothing. I’ll pretend not to know, but if anything happens I’m not defending you. You’re on your own."

He stares at Minghao from above his shoulder.

"If at least one of us can be happy in this damn family, I won’t interfere", he finishes before disappearing behind the doors of the elevator.

Minghao remains speechless in the corridor for a few moments before going back inside.

* * *

He almost bumps into Seokmin when he comes back. He doesn’t say anything. Minghao didn’t expect him to anyways. He’s a Hwanggeum. He realizes how imprudent of him it was to let him in in the first place - he’s not sure if realizing is the right word for it, since he _knew_ , but there are a thousand of ways for this to turn out really, really bad. Mingyu is still seated on the couch, staring at this nails.

"Hey", Minghao says softly, crashing down next to him.

He kisses Mingyu on the top of his head, stroking his shoulder through the fabric of his white shirt. He pretends not to notice the two open buttons at the collar. He pretends his fingers aren’t aching to touch the exposed skin _right there_ , on the collarbone, close to the base of the throat, where it curves into a golden V. _V_ like _vicious_ , like _vendetta_ , like _victory_ , like _VAIN_. His brain produces flashes of his fingers against the golden burning skin, and then his mouth, and his hands running against the skin of Mingyu’s back.

"I’m sorry about Jeonghan. I made a beginner’s mistake. He came in, and I thought it was you, so I screamed your name, and then he understood, and now here we are."

"What did you say in the corridor ?", Mingyu asks, sounding concerned. As he should.

"He won’t say anything. Well, he’s not a big fan of it either. Just like Jun. And probably like your cousin, too, if I got this right."

Mingyu nods. He doesn’t ask about Jun. Minghao is trapped between the desire to be honest and the easiness of remaining silent about him. He’s torn between the clear truth that Junhui isn’t properly his and that he isn’t Junhui’s and the other, more intricate truth, that they’re a part of each other. His perfume is on his clothes in the closet, on the pillows of the bed, and even the bottle is on the shelf of the mirror in the bathroom. Junhui is not his boyfriend, or his partner, or something along these lines, but his existence is too intertwined with Minghao’s to pretend he’s nothing. Junhui is his first everything, and until now, Minghao never thought he’d ever love someone else.

"Seokmin won’t say a word about this. I know him."

"Nice", Minghao answers, combing Mingyu’s soft hair with his fingers.

Mingyu puts his head on Minghao’s shoulder and they stay like this for a few minutes, in a situation that’s the closest to domesticity they’ll probably ever have.

It’s almost too good to be true. Jeonghan, Junhui and Seokmin not telling anything about them to anyone. Things can’t go well for long, and at the second this thought cross his mind, Mingyu kisses him.

Kissing Mingyu takes a whole another dimension knowing they can’t be seen and that they don’t risk anything. It takes another dimension when they know they can actually _kiss_ and do whatever they want for now and if _whatever they want_ means Minghao’s lips leaving Mingyu’s to trail down his throat to kiss the famous spot that was catching his eye since earlier, then that’s what he’ll do. Mingyu runs his hand in his hair at the back of his head as he does so, letting out something that’s a mixture between a moan and a sigh.

This is already delirious and it hasn’t even started. As their mouths grow hungrier, their breaths messier, their hands needier, Minghao understands the real meaning of the word _sinful_. This is the exact opposite of what they tried to teach him to church, when he was younger and his soul could still be saved : this is greed, lust, maybe wrath, and gluttony. This is more than he can have. This is more than what he could even dream of, he thinks, the heavy weight of Mingyu’s tall body hovering above his slender frame, this is more than what he’s allowed to ask for. He was granted Seoul, maybe even the world, and he went for the only thing he had no right to desire, and yet there he is, fingers digging in the back of the man he supposedly can’t touch, breathing heavily in the crook of his neck.

He thinks about his catechism lessons as Mingyu thrusts once again, deeper. He thinks about what he learnt about redemption. He was nine years old, kneeling on the prayer bench, and the Father told him he’d have to pay for his sins. He remembers it now, as his hands grab instinctively the sheets of his bed. He remembers it and, between two moans, he wonders what price he’ll pay for this. The cross is heavy to bear, as if what he did was written all over his skin with a black Sharpie, where Mingyu left his marks. The last conscious and functional part of his brain wonders if the price is the burden of being guilty, and Mingyu’s hand brushes the last thought off of his head, and then he stops thinking. It’s just golden skin, soft groans, sloppy kisses and muted screams.

It’s just the two of them in comfortable quiet later that night, when the streets are silent and the black sky is almost weighing on their shoulders. Mingyu wears Minghao’s silk robe and smokes a cigarette at the window. Minghao is laying on the bed, half covered by the sheets. He glances at his lover (the word feels new, almost unnatural to him), a man he has known for three days, features lit up by the lamppost in the street below, smoke coming out from his mouth.

His heart sinks. For him, he’ll pay.

* * *

This night, Mingyu dreams of the sea. A peaceful sea, perfect, plain, calming blue, where the waves come crashing gently at his feet. The sky has no color, and at the same time it’s a shade that makes him feel at home. It has no color but somehow it’s a bright and sweet yellow, like the walls of a child’s bedroom, painted with tender white clouds that look like sheeps. The sea comes licking his bare feet and someone else comes standing next to him. It’s Minghao. His hair look purple and the sky turns grey, and then blue, and then red. Not an alarming red, though, more of a shade used to depict love. Red like a neon, red like a velvet sofa, red like a box of chocolates on Valentine’s day. Minghao smiles and the sea turns red too. And then everything goes black.

He wakes up. Minghao is still awake, lying on his back, his phone casting a weird yet domestic light on his face, and turns to him.

"Are you okay ?", he asks gently, tracing the creases of the muscles on Mingyu’s back with his slender fingers.

Mingyu nods, face still half buried in the pillow, and Minghao chuckles softly.

"I want to go to the sea", he groans, muffled.

"What ?"

"I want to go to the sea", he says, more intelligibly this time. "With you."

Minghao smiles. Mingyu can’t see him because his eyes are still closed.

"Then we’ll go to the sea together. Now go back to sleep."

  
 _I love you_ , Minghao almost says, but at this moment it feels too cheesy, so he doesn’t. But he does think so.


	3. ACT II : BLACK SEA

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "You’re going to die  
> in your best friend’s arms.  
> And you play along because it’s funny, because it’s written down,  
> you’ve memorized it,  
> it’s all you know.  
> I say the phrases that keep it all going,  
> and everybody plays along.  
> Imagine:  
> Someone’s pulling a gun, and you’re jumping into the middle of it.  
> You didn’t think you’d feel this way."
> 
> \- Richard Siken, Planet of Love

They plan to go to the sea two days later, to Busan, in a car leaving from a wasteland they chose, at eight in the evening. Minghao will be escorted by Jun and possibly Jeonghan, if he’s not too mad, and Mingyu will come with Seokmin. Just in case.

 _Just in case_ , Minghao thinks again. Just in case of what ?

It’s scary how they love each other with a gun pointed right at the other’s heart. How they’re each other’s biggest weakness but also their own. If Mingyu decided to pull the trigger, Minghao would probably be defenseless. If he was lying from the start, then Minghao would just have been majestically fooled. Would he even be resentful ? Wouldn’t _that_ be the price of betrayal ?

He’ll ask Jeonghan to come. He’s the most likely to be shooting someone from cold blood. His hands would not be shaking, but Minghao’s are right now. Maybe he’s wrong about Mingyu. He doesn’t know him, after all, but he likes to think it’s worth the try.  
  


The sun is starting to set on the wasteland, slowly, as the surrounding buildings start to light up, decrepit and dusty. The skyline of Seoul’s skyscrapers takes shape in the distance and Minghao feels the weight of his gun in his inside pocket. It scares him. He wishes he didn’t feel it. The car that will take them to Busan is already parked, with a driver waiting inside. Jun is fumbling in the backseat next to him and Jeonghan is silent on the passenger seat, staring in front of him, fingers tapping on his knee.

“He’s late.” Jun states.

“Traffic, I guess.” Minghao replies.

Jeonghan sighs.

“If he’s not there in ten minutes I’m leaving. I have other things to do.” he warns them.

“He’ll be there soon.”

Minghao remains calms even though Mingyu doesn’t open his messages. He stays on “delivered”, like he has been for half an hour now. A kind of underlying anxiety starts to build up inside of his stomach.

_What if it goes wrong. What if it goes wrong. What if it goes wrong._

He almost bites his nails, something he hasn’t done in years, but stops himself. Junhui is there. Junhui knows him better than anyone else. Junhui knows Minghao doesn’t bite his nails if nothing is wrong.

 _Nothing is wrong_ , Minghao thinks. _Yet._

A car turns to the entrance of the wasteland, shining black body through the barbed wires, glasses as dark as coal, wheels lifting up the ochre dust from the ground.

“Look”, he says, somewhat relieved. “There they are.”

The other car parks, five meters away from them. One of the doors open and Mingyu comes out, quickly followed by Seokmin.

“Okay, here we go”, Junhui decides.

He steps out of the car. Jeonghan leaves second, and Minghao comes last, and here they are, the five of them standing, expensive shoes bathing in dust.

Minghao looks at Mingyu from afar and tries to take a step towards him. 

Mingyu is not smiling. Seokmin isn’t either. Seokmin looks terrified and Mingyu looks sorry.

_Something is wrong. Something is wrong. Something is wrong._

He knows Jeonghan and Junhui sensed it too. He sees Junhui’s hand moving imperceptibly closer to his gun.

Someone else comes out of the Cheonsa car. A third body they didn’t expect to come. A surprise guest. A middle-aged man, around five feet seven, wearing a three-piece suit.

All of a sudden the man has a gun pointed at Mingyu’s temple and Minghao’s blood stops running, as if his brain hadn’t recorded all the process between these two moments. As if he could’ve stopped him anyway.

He looks at Mingyu once again. His eyes are shining in fear, and in desolation, like he was trying to tell him _I’m sorry. I did my best and it still wasn’t enough and now we’re all in danger_. Seokmin is staring at the ground.

Is he a traitor ? Is Seokmin a traitor ?

“So I was doing my thing, on a Wednesday evening”, the Cheonsa man starts. “I was coming home from work early, which is not something I usually do, because I’m a hard-working man…”

He’s completely coked up, Minghao notices. He talks like some kind of prophet, but in a scary way. It’s terrifying and his hand is shaking around the gun pressed against Mingyu’s head.

Seokmin is praying silently. His eyes are pressed shut and his hands are joined discreetly. Jeonghan looks at him with an unreadable stare.

“And I see _my_ son and _my_ nephew in _my_ car, driven by _my_ chauffeur that _I_ pay with the money that _I_ make”, he continues. “Which would not have been such a big deal, you’d think, if I didn’t already saw this happening two days ago.”

Minghao feels like a rock falls repeatedly on his head, not even able to think properly. He can’t even move. The Cheonsa father knew about it. He knew about them and decided to blow it up at this very precise moment. Minghao finds it funny (he doesn’t - he finds it disgustingly ironic) that they get to know about it now that the person he loves is being held at gunpoint five meters away from him.

A part of him tells him to run. In a close fight, he would totally win over the Cheonsa father, this isn’t even to be doubted of. The thing is, during the time it will take him to run to the other side, the man has the time to pull the trigger _on his very own son_.

The risk is too high. He can’t. He just has to wait for him to finish his speech and hear what he wants.

“My second son in the middle of a Hwanggeum neighbourhood. Ruffling his feathers with the filthy. Oh, God. I don’t even dare thinking about which kind of dirty print you left on him.” He tugs Mingyu closer and he knits his brows. “I never said anything about the silly little thing you had for men, because it was a good thing to pair you up with the Jeon son, but this…”

Minghao swallows a dry lump in his throat. If only he knew. If only he knew the marks he left on his beloved son, the very exact places where Hwanggeum lips touched his skin, maybe the trigger would have already been pulled. The gun is still pointed at Mingyu’s head. _Make it move,_ he begs internally. _Remove it from his skin. Point it at me instead. Shoot me if you have to._

Junhui is tense on his right. He feels it with just his corner vision. On his left, Jeonghan doesn’t move, still looking at Seokmin quietly praying. This is the usual. Neither of them are nervous, but Minghao always had a tendency to let it get to his head quickly.

Mingyu. Mingyu’s eyes. They’re closed. Minghao wants him to open them. He wants to see them. If the Cheonsa father decides to pull the trigger now, he’ll never get to see them again. He can’t stand the big hand of Cheonsa Gisa sitting on Mingyu’s shoulder, cold, authoritarian, imperious, threatening. Deadly if he decides to be.

“May I ask what were your intentions with my son ?”

Does he lie ? Does he tell the truth ?

The gun is pressed closer to Mingyu’s skull and Minghao understand he simply doesn’t have the time to think.

“Answer me.”

“We were going to the sea”, Minghao replies, defeated.

The man winces. An exaggerated wince, like a kid would do it, which does not suit him because he’s a man in his late forties wearing an Armani suit and has a gun in his hand.

“That’s not the way it is”, he laughs, a cynical, disgusting laugh. “You’re not going to the sea with my son, Hwanggeum.”

Minghao once again remembers how things are. How he’s just his clan’s name and nothing else to this man. He doesn’t ask for his empathy, even though that’s something he’d desperately need to gain at this moment ; he just remembers that in his eyes, he will never be a proper human, just another face in a list of people to hate, just another name in the black book of resentment. Another target to shoot if he ever had the chance.

“What if I want to go to the sea with a Hwanggeum, Dad ? Did you ever think about this ?”

Mingyu’s voice is hoarse, but not shaking. His eyes are not closed anymore. There’s something firmer in his posture.

“Why would you want this ? How did I raise you ?”

“You mean how did Mom raise me ?”

He’s provocating now. Too much for someone with a gun pressing to his temple. _Fool. Don’t talk. Stay quiet. He can shoot anytime,_ Minghao enjoins him mentally, trying to speak with his eyes. His brain produces a series of flashes : the sound of a gunshot, a blood spray coming from Mingyu’s head, a red splattering on his white button up, his tall body falling on the ground, Seokmin screaming, the father laughing hysterically, Jeonghan telling him they have to leave, him falling on his knees. His brain rewinds and comes back to the present. This can’t happen. This must not happen. Minghao would rather see his own life end here and now, in the wasteland that felt like a promised land at first, almost like a first step to heaven, than seeing this happen.

“I spent my life working my ass off to give you a stable life, Mingyu. Don’t start being ungrateful now.”

Minghao knows what Mingyu would reply, but it’s too risky. His father inherited from the Cheonsa company and didn’t build anything at all ; this man has no merits, professionally or as a person. He remembers Mingyu telling him these exact words behind the club on the night they met, around their fourth cigarette.

“The main things I got from you were a big house, a chauffeur and being born in a war I didn’t even ask for. Guess that makes you a wonderful father and I was wrong, at the end of the day.”

 _He’s fucking insane. He’s going to get killed right now. Right before my eyes. On the day we were supposed to go to the sea together._ Minghao thinks this is the last straw. He sees the flashes before his eyes again, absolutely terrified of every breath he takes. Every second comes increasing the uncertainty left by the previous one. Every second feels like it’s the last one where he’ll get to see Mingyu alive and breathing.

The Cheonsa father laughs. His eyes are bloodshot and he looks like he was sent from hell. The gun still hasn’t moved and Minghao wonders how there can still be blood in his arm.

“Mingyu. Oh, Mingyu, Mingyu, Mingyu, my sweet Mingyu.”

It’s sickening. The voice he uses is sweet and syrupy, and it makes Minghao want to throw up.

“Mingyu… you never were like your brother Seungcheol, were you ? You never had the weight of being the heir to our family on our shoulders. You never had to suffer like he did. Like I did.”

He uses the gun to run it in Mingyu’s hair and Minghao feels like his carotid is about to blow up. _Stop touching him. I would never get him half as dirty in my lifetime that you do right now._

“You’ve always been a sweet, sweet summer child, Mingyu. No choice to make. Nothing to lose.”

His hand comes caressing Mingyu’s throat, his rough hands sliding on the golden skin. _Do you know that my lips have already been there, Cheonsa Gisa ?_

Nothing good can happen from now on. He looks delirious, scarlet eyes, a demonic smile and a gun in hand.

“You never had to suffer, he repeats. Will you ever be a real man if you don’t suffer a little ?”

Minghao sees Mingyu swallowing heavily, eyes fixed to the sky. Seokmin hasn’t stopped praying. Maybe it’s what they need. A little grace from God, for them, mortals amongst the mortals, sinners amongst the sinners.

“Your day has come. Take the gun in your hand.”

He obeys. Mingyu has a gun in his hand. Mingyu, the love of his life and the man he could die for, has a gun in his hand. The man he could die for, and for which he eventually will, in a future that’s closer than what he expected it to be. Mingyu, with his soft hands and his pointy teeth, has a gun in his hand and Minghao knows that this is not a good thing.

“There’s only one bullet in this. You either shoot your sweet lover boy, or you kill yourself.”

The world stops.

Minghao has to tell his brain to keep on working, his legs to keep on bearing him, his blood to keep on pumping, his lungs to keep on breathing, his heart to keep on beating.

_Shoot me_ is the first thing he thinks about. He doesn’t want to die, but he prefers the last slumber than watching Mingyu shooting a bullet in his own temple in front of him.

_Shoot me._ He tries telling him with his eyes but Mingyu is not looking at him. He’s staring at the gun in his hand, breathing heavily, while his demon of a father is smiling hysterically behind him.

_Shoot me._

And then Mingyu points the gun on his own temple, back to where it used to be a few moments earlier.

No. No. _No. No. No. Don’t._ **_Don’t._ **

Mingyu looks at Minghao in the eyes. He’s determined but Minghao is mentally screaming at him to let it go. Now that Cheonsa Gisa doesn’t hold the gun anymore, they can find a way to escape. If they had enough time to think about it. If they could stop the clock and freeze everything so they could leave.

The father is not smiling anymore.

"Things are not going according to how I planned them and I hate this", he groans, and then he snatches the gun off of Mingyu’s hand.

He points it towards the Hwanggeum clan now, and Minghao just thinks at this exact moment that if Mingyu had shot the bullet in the air - which he probably planned to do, he realizes with all the hindsight he can take at this moment -, that they would have taken the advantage. It’s too late, now. It’s over, for him.

 _This is the day I die,_ he thinks, and then he hears the gunshot.

And he doesn’t die.

His head bumped against the body of the car, but he’s not dead, and another body covers his, and he sees the crimson blood stain spreading on the side of the shirt.

 _Junhui’s red shirt._ Which was not red at all when they arrived.

"Jun", he says numbly. "Jun."

Junhui groans. The stain gets bigger way too fast.

"Jun."

Jeonghan is not there anymore.

"Jun. Do you hear me ? Jun. Tell me you hear me."

Junhui smiles. He closes his eyes and he doesn’t open them again. Earth shifts on its axis Minghao’s world collapses.

Mingyu sees the body falling before he realizes the trigger has been pulled.

First he thinks Minghao is dead. His brain takes a few second to process the information, and then a few other ones to realize that he isn’t. He was staring at the Hwanggeums, pointing the gun on his own head, and the next second he sees two bodies collapsed against the car in front of them.

Wait. _Two._

_Where’s Jeonghan ?_

His father is silent. Mingyu turns to him, not quite daring to move. Seokmin is already running to Minghao and Jun.

Mingyu knows who Junhui is. He saw his pictures in Minghao’s apartment. On his Instagram. Everywhere. The sheets had a smell that he didn’t know. He knows what Junhui means.

He know what Junhui’s name means and he sees him lying on the ground, and he’s not quite sure of what he sees, but his shirt is oddly red, and Minghao is in shock, shaking his body in an attempt to wake him up.

Mingyu still cannot move. He stares at his father.

He has his two hands up and looks terrified. Not exactly what Mingyu expected when he turned around.

Jeonghan has his own gun pointed at Cheonsa Gisa’s head. It’s a sight to see, almost a delirious vision : Jeonghan, looking pristine, the pans of his silk jacket and his silver hair floating in the spring wind, dust from the wasteland on his leather black shoes, holding a weapon pressed flat and hard against Mingyu’s father sweating temple.

“Listen to me now”, he says. “If you move I’ll shoot. I know how to use a gun and the charger is full.”

He doesn’t sound angry. Mingyu had the exact same thought back to Minghao’s apartment, but Jeonghan has a soft voice and a pretty face, and right now his features are emotionless, which makes him terrifying. He expects anger, excitement, adrenaline, but Jeonghan is a marble statue in the middle of a war.

His dad is shaking. His bloodshot eyes are bulging and his breathing is heavy.

“You either kill yourself or I end you right there with absolutely no regret.”

The sound his father emits is scary to Mingyu. He should stop Jeonghan. He knows it. He’s his blood. He’s supposed to stop a Hwanggeum from shooting him. Jeonghan and Cheonsa Gisa are not even supposed to physically stand _this_ close without anyone’s intervention.

He should stop him but he doesn’t. His own father, now staring at him with terrified eyes.

“Mingyu. Mingyu, please, my son, my beloved son, stop him.”

His own father, asking his son to kill himself a few seconds earlier. He meets Jeonghan’s eyes. There is no message in them. He’s not threatening, nor encouraging, just neutral. _You have a choice to make, and if you don’t get in my way I could not care less._ Mingyu is not his problem at the moment. Jeonghan has a gun in hand and Mingyu doesn’t.

“Mingyu. Please, I’m your father. Remember when… when…”

Mingyu archs a brow as his father is looking for a reason for his son not to give up on him. Jeonghan chuckles. “Damn, says a lot”, he mutters.

“Mingyu. Please. Mingyu !”

He turns his back and runs to Minghao.

“Fuck !”, he hears him screaming.

A movement. And then another gunshot. And then his father’s body falling down, leaving Jeonghan’s silhouette standing out in the setting sun of Seoul’s skyline.

“Minghao. Minghao, are you okay ?”, he asks frantically.

He has blood on his forehead and his hands. His eyes are dull and Mingyu _understands._

“He’s fucking dead.”

Mingyu closes his eyes. That’s what he thought. He hears Seokmin talking to the driver. _You didn’t see anything. You just drive them to Busan as fast as possible and you don’t ask any questions._

“I’m so sorry, Minghao. I’m so, so sorry for your loss.”

He doesn’t reply. Jeonghan comes by them, a cigarette in his mouth.

“Minghao, you two have to leave.”

He doesn’t move, staring at Junhui’s face. _He died smiling._ He doesn’t know exactly what emotion this statement makes him feel, can’t quite put a finger on it, but his heart has never been so heavy.

Jeonghan kneels down next to him and puts his hand on Minghao’s shoulder, a move Mingyu didn’t dare to make. They’re family and he’s not part of this. A voice in his brain tell him all of this is his fault.

“We should leave now”, he just says.

“I’m not coming back.”

Jeonghan chokes with his drag of smoke. Minghao gets up, resting gently Junhui’s head on the ground after kissing his forehead one last time.

“What ?”, his cousin asks.

“You heard it. I’m not coming back.”

He heads to the car and gets in.

“Mingyu. Are you coming ?”

His voice is plain, and he almost sounds prerecorded. Someone sighs.

“Yes. Here I am.”

He doesn’t know what to say to Jeonghan, who’s not even looking at him, so he just leaves. The car is silent, quiet and clean. Not a single speck of dust from the wasteland, just the fresh smell of expensive leather.

“We’re leaving”, he tells the driver. “Go as fast as you can.”

He starts the car. Minghao is seated next to him and he doesn’t move.

_What the fuck was this ?_

He can’t put the pieces of the puzzle quite together. He remembers the chills of horror when his dad got in the car, the cold pressure of steel against his skin, and that’s all.

His father is dead. His father is dead and he’s not even sad.

“Is your forehead alright ?”, he asks gently.

“My forehead.. ?”

Minghao touches it and winces. He didn’t even notice it.

“Yeah, I think you bumped your head pretty hard. Let me see. Come here.”

His lover gets closer to him as he grabs a bottle of water and a pack of tissues in the net behind the passenger seat. The wound is superficial but the blood mixes with dust. Mingyu dampens a tissue and presses it softly on the sore zone, making Minghao hiss. He strokes his cheek and shushes him everytime he does it until his forehead is clear.

“There you go”, he finally says.

Hesitantly, he kisses Minghao’s cheek. Like you would kiss a child that just fell and scraped his knees. Like you would kiss the thing you cherish the most on Earth.

Minghao’s face is blank and then, all of a sudden, a tear rolls down his cheek. Mingyu takes him in his arms and they remain like this for what could be minutes or centuries, Minghao silently sobbing in the crook of Mingyu’s neck, Mingyu smoothly stroking his back.

“I just… I just can’t fucking believe it.”

There’s so much to feel sorry for.

* * *

By the time they arrive in Busan, Minghao’s tears have dried and the sky is black.

He won’t come back. He knows it now; more than an empty word he threw mindlessly when his blood was running furiously inside his veins, it was the only option. Where could he go home, when Junhui is dead and he still can’t be with Mingyu ?

 _Junhui is dead._ It’s just an idea, something unreal. He tries to pretend he didn’t feel, or rather didn’t _not feel_ his pulse. He tries to pretend he’s at the gym, or at a bar, like he would be on a normal evening.

 _I won’t make it to his funeral,_ Minghao realizes and if life hadn’t made him this way he would have already collapsed to the ground. _Maybe it’s for the better._ Mingyu is rubbing gently his thigh through his jeans, a subtle reminder that he’s here. For the moment. He doesn’t even want to think about when he’ll have to leave, because he _has to,_ and he’s the heir to the Hwanggeum clan and he’ll just vanish somewhere no one knows about him _without Mingyu._

Mingyu won’t leave.

Mingyu won’t leave because he has to get fucking _married._

He told him when they were going through Daegu. _My father told me yesterday that Wonwoo and I are getting married this summer. To celebrate the fact that he bought their company, or some shit like that. To make it official, I guess, like we’re some type of currency. There’s nothing I can do about it._

Minghao did not really react. It was another drop in the sea, another cut on a bleeding wound, another hit on a broken bone, another item on the list of the things he lost tonight.

Jun is dead. Mingyu is getting married. He’s leaving Seoul. There’s nothing holding him back now, he thinks as the car parks. They thank the driver and leave.

Busan is empty. The sky is black. The sea is black too, calmly crashing on the cold sand. Mingyu thinks about his dream and takes Minghao’s hand. He would’ve preferred it red, and in better conditions. A small gust of wind comes ruffling his hair inside of his hoodie

They stand like this, on the sidewalk, not even staring at the sea, and Minghao pulls Mingyu a little closer, squeezes his hand a little harder, feels the lump in his throat get a little bigger. He’s not ready to leave him. He can’t leave him. Mingyu is all he has now. _I’ve lost everything for you. You let your father die for me, for what he did to me, and now I’m leaving and you’re getting married to another man. What a waste._

 _Maybe I have no right to claim something so pretty as mine_ , he wonders. Because if he did, he would not have to leave the only man _still standing_ that he loves.

Three days and one night. That’s everything they’ve had for them before they were shot in flight, a cruel reminder that this life isn’t for them and that they’ll only ever dream of it. A burning wake up call, saying _this isn’t your life because this isn’t what your family chose for you and you’ll never even get close to lay your hands on this_. Maybe they should have known, after all. Maybe they shouldn’t have tried to defy the law of the stars.

Minghao realizes, only too late as they walk in the sand, that _this_ is the price he had to pay : the sadistic and pointless burden of battling for something that has no chance to ever live.

“This is so disappointing”, he tells Mingyu.

Mingyu sighs.

“Yes. Yes, it is, and it’s also unfair, and it makes me want to throw up. The list is long.”

They sit down. The sand is cold under Minghao’s hands, and for a moment all he hears is the waves going back and forth, and it’s calming. It’s nice, not thinking about anything for a few seconds, just the sea rolling and Mingyu’s hand in his. He feels his warm and slightly imposing presence next to him, a source of heat close to his ever cooling down body.

_I love you so much. I love you so much you have no idea. I would die for you and I probably will. I would kill for you and somehow I already did._

“Do you think this is how this was meant to be ?”, Mingyu asks.

“Maybe. But no one had to die, I think.”

Minghao knows, deep down, in a hidden place of his mind, that this is his fault. That if he wasn’t so desperately hungry for thrill, drama, adrenaline and devastation, then none of this would have happened. In an almost masochist twist of mind, he had been looking for this forever : the Great, Terrible Damned Love of his Life. Now that he got it, he realizes that maybe things didn’t need to be so big, or so complicated, to be great ; that maybe he should have stuck with what he had in the first place. Now Jun is dead and what he had will remain in the past tense forever.

“I’m so sorry about your father, by the way. This is a terrible way to say it, but I mean it.”

His lover laughs, head turned to the sky, but it’s not a funny laugh. It’s the laugh of a man whose father just died, and is has no regret about it.

“I let him die consciously when I could have saved him so easily. Don’t be sorry when I’m obviously not. I’m sorry for you, too. More than you’ll imagine.”

Mingyu swallows a lump in his throat. _I let my own father die because I thought you were dead. Do you see ? Do you see how much I’m willing to lose for you ?_

He has so much to tell him, so much things he’ll never say. Why would you open your heart so much to someone that will end up leaving ?

 _Minghao, please don’t leave. Please don’t leave_ **_me._ ** _Stop this marriage. I don’t want to get married. I don’t want to get married to someone that’s not you. I don’t want to take the blame for my father’s death but somehow I will, because in the end it is my fault after all, if I wasn’t so selfish. But I’m so selfish when it comes to you._

He does not say anything at all. None of these words will make Minghao stay. He’ll only leave with a heavier heart, and Mingyu would rather suffer forever from an unspoken cry for help than make Minghao ache for a single more second.

Can the sea be red again ? His dream remains so vivid behind his closed eyelids. The cool caress of water on his feet, the colorless sky, Minghao, and then this loving shade of red everywhere, surrounding them, almost blinding but not in a painful way; in a way that reminds him how bright the man standing next to him shines, how hard and terribly deep he loves him. 

He stares at the waves and silently prays, eyes closed, head bent. When he opens them again the sea is still black. If Minghao comes back one day, will he still love Mingyu then ? Does the sea have a chance to be red again ?

He shivers in his sweater.

“Maybe we should find a place to sleep”, he tells Minghao.

Minghao nods and gets up first, offering a hand to help him while brushing the sand off of him with his free hand, and here they stand again next to the black sea and instinctively Minghao kisses him. He hasn’t since they arrived and Mingyu was too scared to do it first. It feels nice, comforting, and it awakens a small flame of hunger and despair in their stomachs, knowing that soon will come their last kiss.

The wind blows gently, ruffling their hair like a loving brother. Minghao wants a place where they can get champagne, as if there was something to celebrate. He’ll cheer to Junhui, and also to God, if he’s willing to hear him for once, asking for another chance, begging silently for forgiveness.

* * *

The hotel is nice because they put the price for it. Actually, nice is an understatement, because it’s easily one of the top five hotels in Busan and “the price” doesn’t really means anything to them. Minghao decides he spends the night here and leaves the night after.

“What if you came with me”, Minghao asks as they both sit on the bed in bathrobes, with champagne cups in one hand. It’s mindless, he just asks for asking, and also because he doesn’t want to be alone.

Mingyu looks at him. “Stop asking me. You know that’s literally the only thing I want to do.”

“What’s stopping you ?”

“Listen,” Mingyu chuckles. “My father died because of me plus I’m supposed to get married and I don’t want to bring even more shame on my family. I have to go back.”

 _What if you stayed with me ?_ Mingyu doesn’t ask. That’s the worst thing to do, really.

“I see”. Minghao doesn’t see. Junhui is dead so there’s nothing he really wants to return to. Maybe Hansol, Soonyoung, and of course Jeonghan, but how can he come back home and tell them _Junhui is dead because I’m a selfish idiot and I couldn’t do anything to save him_? That’s a coward move but Minghao doesn’t have it in him to do it. (And he doesn’t want to go to the funeral.)

“Will you come back ?”

“Yeah, definitely. I don’t know when though.” _When I’ll be back you’ll belong to another man and I’ll never ever lay my hands on you again._

There’s a huge glass panel that takes the whole wall on the side of their bed and Mingyu is smoking in front of it. His silhouette stands out from the scenery of the city, white sponge robe and broad shoulders and golden skin above concrete and shining lights, and Minghao gets up and kisses him, his hand behind Mingyu’s head.

Mingyu has to crush his cigarette bottom in the ashtray on the nightstand and doesn’t pull away from the kiss, simply putting his hand on Minghao’s waist and quickly rotating the two of them. Minghao pushes him back against the window, a knee between his legs. _Oh, I see how things are going_ , Mingyu chuckles internally _._ So he plays by his rules and kisses him harder, hand caressing his fragile neck, but if there’s something that Xu Minghao _really_ _is_ , that’s _competitive._ Detaching his mouth from Mingyu, he starts trailing his mouth down his neck, and Mingyu lets out a small moan against his own will. Minghao laughs.

“You’re not winning”, Mingyu defends himself.

Minghao faces him, arching a brow.

“Excuse me ?”

“I said you’re not winning”.

Minghao knows better. He gets closer like a snake before biting and slides his hand between the folds of the bathrobe, where he knows he’ll just meet warm skin, ready to shiver at any pressure of his fingertips. He touches Mingyu’s hipbone and gets slowly closer to where it actually matters without actually getting to it. The V zone, soft and sensible skin under Minghao’s silky digits. Mingyu swallows audibly.

“Can you repeat that once more ?”, he asks when his hand grabs Mingyu’s almost fully hard cock.

“You’re not w-” he starts, and Minghao flicks his thumb against his tip and Mingyu swallows a breath.

“I think I am”, he just says simply before starting kissing Mingyu’s collarbones again.

“So you’re just gonna ignore the fact that I’m hard as a rock and decide we keep on kissing like nothing happened”, Mingyu asks bluntly.

“Well what if I do ?”, Minghao teases him. And then he gets what he wants. The shift in Mingyu’s look as he grabs him and switches their positions. Now Minghao is trapped between the window and Mingyu’s bigger, dominating frame.

“What if you do, huh ?”, he asks, with a smile that’s half cocky and half _terribly hungry_.

“Yeah, that’s what I asked.”, Minghao cocks back.

Usually, Mingyu’s appearance and personality could be seen as _unmatching_ , because he’s tall, lean, muscular and he’s also very gentle and reassuring. But here, now, against the window of one of Busan’s best hotel, Mingyu is exactly the way he looks : a beast.

He rips off the belt of Minghao’s bathrobe - not without him gasping, but in a way that’s a bit too pleased to be genuinely shocked - and grabs him by the hips to lift him up, placing himself between his now spread out thighs.

“Do you still think you’re in position to be a bitch with me ?”

“Fuck me. Now”, Minghao commands, and in the end Mingyu is just a man and that’s also exactly what he wants so he turns back and literally throws Minghao on the bed.

“What if you broke my back ?”

“Keep that phrase for after”, Mingyu jokes and Minghao laughs. “I’m still looking for lube and condoms.”

He finds them while Minghao waits on the bed, half naked with his bathrobe falling haphazardly on his pale skin.

“You know, the mean dom personality doesn’t suit you but at the same time it does”, Minghao says. “I don’t know what to think of it.”

“Please just stop thinking of it or I’m throwing you on the bed again. Harder this time.”

Minghao scoffs and thinks it’s funny how their personalities switch when they’re in bed. Mingyu kisses him again, softer this time, and he almost lets out a _I love you so much, and I don’t wanna leave_ , _and_ _I want to stay forever in this hotel room with you_ , but Mingyu slides a lube-coated finger inside of him so he doesn’t say anything at all.

This is not Minghao’s favorite part, even less when he’s the bottom, but Mingyu _knows_ how to do it and when he first hits his prostate he lets out a small muffled cry and it makes Mingyu go absolutely over the edge.

“Do you want me to fuck you ?” he asks, his fingers still going back and forth inside of him.

Minghao nods in the middle of another deep moan.

“Use your words.”

“Yes”, he says between two pants as the fingers go faster, further, harder. “Now.”

Mingyu obeys because he’s a simple man. He takes his fingers out and slides his cock slowly, checking to see if Minghao is alright.

“Fine ?”

“Fuck yes. I love it so much.”

Mingyu leans in to kiss him at the moment his dick hits Minghao’s prostate, which makes him moan in his mouth and makes him again crazier that what he already was. He thrusts into him deep and fast and hard and Minghao bites his shoulder so hard he almost bleeds. He moans louder and louder and Mingyu goes faster, feeling it building inside the pit of his stomach.

“Don’t come before I tell you to.”

“I do” Minghao hiccups because of another thrust “whatever the f” hiccup “the _fuck_ ” hiccup “I want” the end of his word is swallowed in a moan “big boy.”

To let him know who’s _actually in charge_ , Mingyu thrusts harder again and Minghao shuts up, defeated.

“Can I”, he finally asks, with eyes almost pleading if it wasn’t Minghao under him, the boy who _loved_ to be a brat. “Please”.

“Wait”, Mingyu says, still concentrated.

“Do you want me to beg ?”

“Yeah.”

“Please”, he asks, and it oddly sounds more genuine, almost _actually_ pleading, “please, please Mingyu, I’m close” and Mingyu, in the end, was ready to let him so he just says “you can” because it’s either this or he just comes at the sound of Minghao begging under him.

He feels the walls around his dick clenching and the collateral damage of his lover’s orgasm on his abdomen and he comes second, paralyzed by the intensity of his climax, before collapsing on Minghao.

“Did you like it, my love”, he finally asks Minghao after a few moments of silence.

“Yeah. I don’t know who you think you are when you’re horny but that’s hot, and you’re so fucking good at this.” _I’m gonna miss you so much._

* * *

The clock always seem to tick faster when you don’t want it to, Minghao always notices. When he used to sit in class, back to the time when he would still go to one of Seoul’s best private high schools, he would never take his eyes off of the minute’s hand, thinking that there’s no way that shit was so slow, dragging himself through a whole day of lessons he wasn’t necessarily willing to learn. But now, as he’s with Mingyu in one of the most luxurious hotel room in Busan, time is running out of his hands like a waterfall, the hours going by without him actually savouring them although he knows these are the last moments of peace he’ll have for a while after that.

He wakes up and he has three thoughts. One. _Mingyu is asleep next to me._ Two. _I’m leaving in less than twenty-four hours._ Three. _Junhui is dead._ The last one makes him feel like the mattress under him opens up and swallows him, like when you’re dreaming that you’re falling and you wake up and the feeling lingers for a split second. It makes him grab the sheet so hard his knuckles go white, and he wonders if this is real, and he remembers the absence of pulse under his fingers, reminding him of the evidence.

 _I’m so sorry, Junhui,_ he thinks. _I’ll mourn you properly once I leave. I can’t even realize that you’re gone yet. Are you waiting for me ?_

The thought comes slapping him in the face every now and then. _You have nothing to actually return to. No port to anchor your boat anymore, except the man sleeping next to you that you have to leave today. And he’ll never love you in a way that will satisfy the two of you, because he’s yours, and you’re his, and this is not even debatable, but you’ll never fully belong to each other. Sucks to be you, man._

He has a flight booked at 4:52 in the morning and around six in the evening Mingyu asks him the most excruciating thing he could ever say.

“Where are you going ?”

“I can’t tell you.”

“Please”, Mingyu scoffs. “This is not the FBI after you. It’s just me.”

“If I told you, would you try to join me ? Like, if you ever knew where I happened to be, would you stay still and get married to someone else ?”

Mingyu is not smiling anymore, because maybe he didn’t see it this way, but now he does.

“I do this because I don’t want to cause further damage.”

They both know what that means : they have to completely cut ties, until Minghao comes back, or maybe forever. Depends on the odds.

“Can I ask you something ?”, Mingyu adds.

_Is it gonna be another question I wish I didn’t have to answer ?_

“Sure.”

Mingyu snuggles a little more in the bed, a little closer to Minghao’s body heat.

“Can you leave while I’m sleeping ?”

Minghao gets it, really. He really does but it still ties a knot inside of his throat, where his vocal chords are. _So that you don’t have to watch me leave ?_

“Whatever you want, baby”, he just replies, ignoring the bitter taste at the back of his mouth.

This time, Minghao fucks Mingyu slow and sloppy to make it last, and they both stare at the ceiling after. The day keeps going on and they don’t do anything except kiss (fuck again) and occasionally banter for nothing. Mingyu falls asleep at around two in the morning, and Minghao decides that it’s better for him to sleep in the plane by now. His duffel bag waits for him by the door, next to his shoes. He’ll buy other clothes when he arrives. No one would care enough to check on his bank receipts to find down where he is, let alone go and track him at the other end of the world.

There’s no other sound in the room than Mingyu’s soft snoring next to his empty spot on the bed. A reminder. _He’s the only thing you have and you’ll never be there._ He doesn’t turn back to look at him, to kiss him one last time, because he knows what he’ll feel, he knows exactly how hard it’s going to hurt, and he doesn’t want this. He scribbles a note on the pad with the hotel’s pen, swift and messy strokes of ink in the semi-darkness. His handwriting never really felt comfortable in Korean, and he’s always been better with words in Mandarin, but he does his best.

Minghao hears the lock of the door clicking behind him. There’s no going back now. And as he’s standing alone in the silent corridor of Busan’s most expensive hotel at two in the morning, he realises that he doesn’t have anything left.

Junhui. Mingyu. Junhui. Mingyu. Mingyu. Junhui. Junhui. _Junhui._ (Jeonghan, somewhere in the middle of Seoul. There’s a chance he’s still at work.) Mingyu. Junhui. Junhui. Mingyu.

He calls for a cab and pretends his heart isn’t on the verge of shattering inside of his chest. This, he recalls from high school, is Murphy’s law : anything that can go wrong will go wrong. _Fuck you, Murphy and your fucking law._ He tries not to think and remembers why he did drugs when he was younger. It’s so hard not to think about anything. He sees Junhui’s face like a ghost in every street light. Acting like if he’s still there doesn’t do the trick anymore.

He pretends this isn’t his life. He pretends he’s not in a black cab that smells fresh and clean leather, he pretends he doesn’t feel the cold seats under him, he pretends he’s in Eunma Town going home to find Junhui on the couch or being driven to the Hwanggeum house and pretending he doesn’t see Jeonghan smoking at his window, pretending their family isn’t falling apart, pretending they’re all happy, pretending they think it makes sense.

“Can you go a little faster”, he asks the driver.

“Sure, Sir.”

* * *

When Mingyu wakes up, all that’s left of Minghao is an empty spot on the bed, his scent on his pillow and the marks of his lips on Mingyu’s collarbones.

No. There’s something more. He notices the neatly folded paper on the dresser and opens it carefully, hands shaking a little bit, as if the note was gonna blow up to his face. In fact, it almost does.

The handwriting is so Minghao-esque, he notices, quick and messy but oddly elegant. He just stares emptyly at the words, letting the idea that he wrote him a note sink in first. It’s short. Mingyu doesn’t want to read it. If he does, there’s not going to be _anything_ left of him, but he finally does read it.

_Mingyu, I’m sorry I couldn’t give you the happy ending we both hoped for. I pray that you’ll be happy, even if it’s without me. I hope you make it until we meet again, if we ever do. I love you more than everything you could ever think of._

_Minghao_

He folds the paper again.

His body feels empty of everything. He grabs the pack of cigarettes on the table and lights one up. These aren’t theirs. He chokes on the smoke when he tries to swallow the bundle of tears at the back of his throat. The cigarette doesn’t do anything - to be fair he’s only been smoking by habit for years now, but when a tear drops from his eye, he pretends that it’s because of the smoke.

He calls the first number he has on speed dial.

“Wonwoo”, he says. His voice is as steady as it can, which is not a lot, especially when the man at the other end of the line has known him for years. 

“Mingyu ?”

“Yeah.”

Silence. Only the static phone noise. He knows exactly how Wonwoo’s face looks like.

“I don’t know what to tell you, honestly”, Mingyu finally adds. “How is Seokmin ?”

“He’s fine for someone who witnessed his uncle shooting himself, I guess.”

“Yeah”, he says again. “I guess too.”

Another silence. It’s never awkward with Wonwoo, but this one, time, it is, which is understandable but doesn’t change anything to how uneasy Mingyu feels.

“You know you’re going to come back, eventually. To… you know.”

“I don’t think it would be a good idea for me to go back to Seoul now, Wonwoo. Honestly.”

“Are you alright ?”

“I think. I mean, I don’t know.”

“Is he still there ? Minghao, that’s it, right ?”

He feels his heart tightening. It’s the meeting point of two lines that were never supposed to cross _ever._

To be fair, Minghao’s line wasn’t supposed to cross his in the first place either, let alone create a knot the way they did. They should’ve known it wasn’t a good think. They’re like oil and water : no matter how hard they try, how close they get, they can’t mix.

“He left a few hours ago.”

Wonwoo hums at the end of the line. That’s what Mingyu always liked about him : he doesn’t talk when he doesn’t have anything to say, never says anything out of place, never crosses any boundaries. Most of the time he just listens, with a kind pat on the shoulder or a reassuring look. _Maybe I can marry him,_ Mingyu thinks. _He’s my best friend. He’s hot. We get along well. I liked it when we fucked. It’s not a big deal._

He sees the sharp eyes, the long fingers, the hair in front of the eyes and the Chinese accent flashing in his head.

_But I don’t want to marry him and he doesn’t want to marry me either. The problem is here. We don't have to be rational about it. It's a fucking marriage._

“I’ll take a plane to Seoul in a few days. I’ll deal with everything in person. I promise.”

“It’s fine, Gyu. You know no one actually misses him.”

_Yeah. Right. That doesn't make me a national hero, though._

“I’ll be back. I’m sorry for everything. That’s messed up.”

“You deserve to live your life, I think.”

Mingyu almost adds something but the call cuts, or maybe Wonwoo hangs up on him. He orders a bottle of champagne from the room service and drinks it straight from the bottle neck. Fuck that shit.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hi babes !!!!!  
> i wanted to apologize deeply for how long it took me to update. i was originally planning on updating in the beginning of march (put that knife down) but life went fucking HARD on me for the last few months but here i am now !!!! there's one chapter left if you don't count the interlude that comes just after this, and i hope i'll be able to post it before school starts again !!! (it's all outlined in my head i just have to write it)  
> i'm sorry again for the late update, please don't hesitate to comment, stay safe xoxo


	4. INTERLUDE

**_jeonwonwoo_ ** : mingyu and i are getting married on friday, at 2pm, at yeoksam church. if you have something to do, do it

He smiles at the screen and stares at the Empire State Building through the window of his hotel room. The curtains flap gently with the warm wind in the evening blinding sun, feeling somehow like home. It could be home, in a way. A place of his, in a new city, where no one knows who he is. It could be home if someone wasn’t missing. He thinks of two people.

One of them is getting married on Friday at 2pm. The other one is dead.

He books a flight to Seoul on Thursday.

“I’ll be there”, he simply replies.


End file.
